Our Summer
by Balandria
Summary: We keep on being taken back to that time when we were so deliriously happy, running around, breathing in the delicious air and laughing. When we were children, and too naive to know better. I want you to remember that. I never want you to forget. Zemyx.


A/N: It's written as a sort of letter to Demyx from Zexion. *groans* Oh, I feel like I'm going to cry. But in a good way. I hope you feel that way, too.

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It's hard to forget happiness when it relentlessly creeps up on you. It was always the simplest things -- a kind gesture from a stranger, getting the last copy of your favorite game at the store, knowing that there was going to be, no matter what, someone who loved you -- or _had_ loved you; it didn't matter because the brightness of that love, like flashes of pure white, were burned into his vision, etched into his skin, a permanent reminder of what was and what you did have before, and you'll never have to wonder again what it was like because you _felt_ the power and glory of _true_ love. And it kept you happy. Whenever you thought of it, you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face.

As a child, things are forgotten, promises are made and never kept, people grow up. When you go back to that one place in time -- whether it be from a memory or actually going back to where it happened -- the innocence and sincerity mixed with the accidental lies would sweep on you. A happy smile, a small gift of a flower that meant so little while it meant so much, the sunlight that always seemed to keep you company during those days.

Just being here now, thinking about it, you could smell the sun in the fresh air. Cut grass, creek flowing, the trees lightly rustling against the small breeze, could anything be more perfect?

It seemed almost magical, that time. Even when there was a storm, the woods seemed like a tropical rainforest. Deadly, exciting, full of promises, and you couldn't help but race out the door and into the rain freely because you could _do_ things like that, so carelessly -- regardless of what the adults told you -- and so what about the cold you caught next day? It was worth it.

Spring and summer brought out the wild flowers, the green light from the sun filtered through the trees, and you almost imagined you were in Terebithia, from that book you had to read once during school. Fairies were bound to pop up at any moment -- we were kings of this place once, remember? Just like the characters in the book. Or maybe Narnia, out in a foreign land, something unexpected and wondrous at every step. Those days were our canvas and we painted it with bright, loud colors, meaningless designs that you keep in your memories to this day. It meant a lot to me, too.

Even before we grew up, even before I realized what you did to me, that killed me inside but I needed to _stay_ by you so badly, even if I was so afraid you'd find out and hate me for it.

We still visit that time and place -- the place where, when we were fourteen, you leaned over and pressed your lips to mine so gently that I could almost imagine that we were seven years old again, with no rules of what was right in society to bind us, that it was so innocent. The place where I cried because I was so sad, my brother had died, and my parents were off in their own worlds full of grief, but _you_ were there to hug me and tell me that everything was going to be alright. I know that you didn't know if what you were saying was true, but it seemed like nothing else mattered but _that moment_, like we were the only two people on this world that existed, wrapped up in our own little world.

Even when we grew up, that never dissipated, our world was what still mattered and we can go back there every summer, when there is nothing to hold us back, because what we were experiencing was _true_ love.

And even when we grow old, and I die, I want you to remember those days. The days when happiness ruled over all, when everything was like our own little Wonderland for the taking, when we were the only ones that mattered, when -- and _still_, I know this is true -- we were the only ones that could make each other _feel_ that utterly idiotic happiness. Because those small gestures that we showed each other were so small but yet so large.

And I'd never want you to forget that innocence.


End file.
